


the art of not thinking about it

by sasiml



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012 fic, M/M, Phandom Fic Fests: Bingo, a lot of things happened that last week in october, canon compliant - like really canon compliant, sex with feelings, this is very much about dans relationship with college / i mean uni
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 14:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16120619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasiml/pseuds/sasiml
Summary: dan and phil and the week where things had to fall apart before they could come together.





	the art of not thinking about it

**Author's Note:**

> playlist that accompanies this fic: [ link](https://open.spotify.com/user/sasimljemihuddy/playlist/4mtQKn8NX3xntGRQeLWPeZ?si=NtOwfkA5TKyrhbER18MuXA)
> 
> huge shout out to @laddyplester and @freckliedan for betaing this for me

The letter comes first in an email, and Dan doesn’t cry. It’s tucked away in an inbox he probably would've never checked if it weren't for the dull ache he's been feeling in his chest since the start of term. Dan sits on a sofa that still smells like plastic wrap and the chemicals it was treated with, and he most certainly does not cry.

 _Dear Mr Howell,_ _  
_

_I am writing to acknowledge that you have withdrawn from your LLB Law Degree with effect from 06th June 2011. On behalf of the School of Law, may I take this opportunity to wish you well for the future._

It’s been a year since Dan was _really_ a student at Manchester, three months since he’d even lived in the city. He wasn’t kicked out, mostly. He wasn’t lost, entirely. An official withdrawal, a leave of absence, what was the difference really? It wasn’t the end of the world in any sense.

It’s a miracle Dan even comes across it. He checks his academic email on a whim, in an attempt to feel connected to a school he never really knew, or cared about, or maybe only ever wanted in theory. The bookmark’s been gone on his laptop for eight months and Phil’s been logged in for eighteen.

“Did you email your professor and tell them you were gonna be out?” Phil had asked getting ready for bed late one night on a March night three homes and a lifetime ago, when a much younger Dan half-convincingly declared he was going to be too exhausted to go to a nine am lecture the next morning.

“No,” Dan mumbles, shoving his awkwardly plugged-in phone under his pillow and turning to bury most of his face in the fabric.

“Why not?”

“Didn’t end up finishing that paper and don’t wanna see an email from the Prof asking where it is.”

“You were working on it all last week.”

“I know, ok. Leave it alone.”

“Dan.”

“I said leave it.”

“Can you just, let me help?”

Dan lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and turns to face Phil. He’s sitting up with his legs on the floor and a look of worry and concern on his face that Dan’s body responds to with a sickening feeling stirring in his chest.

“I’m fine, it’s gonna be fine,” Dan insists.

Phil doesn’t say anything. It’s almost worse like that.

“You’re not a part of this. You don’t know the situation,” Dan says, abrasive and dismissive.

“Dan, you’re not a part of this either at this point,” Phil says quietly.

“Fuck off.” Dan turns back towards the wall in a huff. It’s still for a moment before he can feel the mattress move as Phil gets under the duvet.

“You gonna turn out the lights, or?” Dan bites. A hand slides under his pillow and he sits up suddenly, catching Phil’s hand holding his phone.

“You’re taking my phone away like I’m a child?”

“Stop being a bitch, I’m emailing your professor for you.” Phil unlocks the phone and scrolls to the last page where the Mail app is.

Dan’s whole body tenses up. “I don’t want to see them.”

“Ok.”

“Don’t tell me what they say.”

“I won’t, promise.”

Phil hits send and exits out of the app before he locks the phone and hands it back to Dan. His eyes say absolutely nothing, but Dan can feel his disappointment anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Dan says. He means mostly about going after Phil, but also for how much of a fucking failure he was. “Thank you.”

Phil gets up to turn out the lights. The switch clicks and the dark whispers to Dan to hit it again, to turn them back on; he can still study and go to class tomorrow. The bed dips as Phil settles under the duvet to remind him he really has just wasted another day.

He knows realistically that any time spent awake sat at his laptop would just be time he’d lose out on sleep at this point. It’s not going to get better, and Dan doesn’t know how to start thinking about it maybe getting worse.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you just-”

“Yeah.”

Phil opens his arms and Dan practically crashes into his chest, burying his nose into the shirt Phil’s been wearing all day. His heart rate slows as soon as he breathes Phil in. The blankets touch his ears, he tilts his head so he can breathe and resolves to hide here for as long as he possibly can.

Phil drops a kiss to the top of Dan’s head, and Dan can hear the unsaid words. They are not affirmations, they are worries, and Dan’s a disappointment once a-fucking-gain.

“I love you,” Phil tells him quietly, and Dan’s surge of anger flares, but the emotion comes at the same time as the sharp prick at the corners of his eyes, and he knows, really, it’s not Phil he’s upset with at all.

It’s ten minutes before Dan’s breathing starts to fall into step with Phil’s heartbeat, another ten before he’s asleep. He texts Phil the login to his email the next morning.

Phil kept him up to date on his inbox ever since. Dan supposes in the end, it didn’t really make a difference. He wonders if Phil’s seen this one, or if he’s given up too.

* * *

Things go on as normal. Thursday they sit across from one another at a borrowed table in a lounge that's not quite yet theirs. Phil answers emails and addresses updates and functions as a regular adult while Dan keeps a word document open in the background of the six other windows he engaged with instead like a middle schooler being supervised to make sure they do their homework.

Friends come over Friday with good intentions and better mojitos. It’s a beautiful blur of a night and Dan remembers blue lights and the feeling as he half-runs down the streets of a new city laughing, skipping, forgetting. He bumps their shoulders and gets too close to Phil because not being in his space is unbearable when he’s drunk and Phil’s drunk and he can physically feel the electricity thrumming beneath his skin.

He drags them both home and they trade sloppy, open mouthed kisses. Phil sucks the rum and the lime and the sugar off of Dan’s tongue partially because he’s drunk and likes the taste. Dan tosses his head back to laugh before chasing Phil’s lips down again and nipping at him softly until it’s no longer enough. There are clothes on the floor and he has Phil writhing underneath him, pausing every few minutes when one of them utters a low _wait, fuck i’m gonna -_

and then Dan sleeps until three-thirty the next day, and the next two days after that.

The letter’s in the pile of mail forwarded from Manchester that makes it to the house the next Tuesday, and Dan doesn’t open it. Dan doesn’t even look at it. He shoves the envelope to the bottom of the pile left on the dining table and doesn’t say anything about it to anyone because he _knows_ what it says. Why the fuck does it matter at this point? Dan’s career in academia was over long before he withdrew.

_Dear Mr Howell, I am writing to acknowledge that you have withdrawn..._

Funny how the overwhelming, crushing, defining, anxiety of being in school at least felt better than the shame and panic of not being in school at all.

* * *

It’s been dark for at least three hours when Phil gets home the night before Halloween. Dan’s already finished the last of the tortilla chips left in the cabinet for dinner when he hears Phil struggling with the lock downstairs.

They always left the place unlocked in Manchester when one of them was home. Dan doesn’t think it’s moving to a bigger city that’s made them more paranoid.

He listens to the footsteps coming up the stairs until they stop and Phil pokes his head into the lounge to see if Dans there.

“Hi,” he smiles.

“How was dinner?” Dan asks.

“Really good, Martyn says hello. Says he might come over this weekend.”

“That’d be good,” Dan muses, eyes drifting back to the laptop.

Phil takes his jacket off and tosses it on the dining table.

“We’re in agreement; next time the four of us have to get together,” Phil says seriously, collapsing on the couch next to Dan.

“We hung out as a group last week,” Dan says. “You’re allowed to have one on one time with your brother.”

Phil hums. “You’re always welcome to join though, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He does, mostly. Sometimes he’s tired and sometimes he’s feeling intrusive and sometimes, Dan just really wants the place to himself.

“Did you get a chance to look at the video for tomorrow?” Phil asks.

“Yeah, I rendered it. It’s good to go,” Dan says.

Phil pauses for the briefest of moments. “Cool.”

“What?”

“Nothing, Martyn gave me a couple pre-rolled joints he got for Halloween. Wanted to make sure you had work done first.”

“Joints as in weed?”

“Yeah.”

“You waited this long to tell me I could be smoking weed right now? What the fuck, Phil, help a bro out.”

Phil grins. Dan melts a little.

“Bro,” Phil repeats, still smiling.

He gets up and Dan hears him dig through the drawers in the kitchen, presumably for a lighter, before he returns to search the inside pocket of his coat. After a moment, he pulls out two long black plastic cylinders, tossing one on the coffee table and squeezing the cap off the other one with a pop, letting the joint fall out.

“Where’d Martyn get them? Those look nice,” Dan asks.

“I think a friend brought them from California,” Phil says, flicking the lighter and letting it burn the paper at the end before offering it to Dan.

Dan takes a long drag, the filters rolled perfectly in a way that feels satisfying around his lips. He exhales the smoke through his nose like he used to do, and coughs, his nose tingling before passing the joint to Phil.

“You’re not in high school anymore, Dan. Not sure you can pull off your party tricks,” Phil says, smirking a little before taking a reasonable hit himself.

“Fuck off,” Dan says.

Phil passes the joint back to Dan. “Speaking of, did you see your mother texted the groupchat?”

“I had it on mute.”

“She wants to see us for dinner soon,” Phil tells him. “I’m thinking Tuesday might work.”

Dan inhales like he’s goddamn meditating, his coughs splutter and he leans forward instinctively while holding the joint out to Phil.

“Dumbass.”

“Shut-” cough “up.”

Phil’s smiling. Dan’s trying not to smile back at him.

Phil takes a longer drag than he did before, blowing the smoke out directly in front of him.

Dans coughing slowly subsides. He’s starting to feel a little foggy and his chest starts to sway a little.

“We don’t have an ashtray,” Phil says, looking for somewhere to ash the tip of the joint.

Dan grabs a soda can left on the coffee table. “Use this.” Phil taps the joint along the rim of the can.

“I don’t wanna see my mum right now,” Dan interjects, half heartedly.

Phil frowns. “Why not? Things were good last time we went over there.

Dan shakes his head. “‘She might ask me about school.”

“She knows though, that you officially dropped out,” Phil says.

“Yeah.”

“So?”

Dan’s quiet as he takes another small hit. “I got the letter today, kinda made it more real.”

“Oh.”

Dan watches as Phil tries to blow a ring of smoke, his face flattening when he runs out.

“You gotta do it from the back of your throat, like barely move it.”

“You’ve never done it in your life,” Phil squeaks.

“Try it again,” Dan tells him.

Phil half arches his eyebrows, before taking another hit. Dan watches his lips form a near-perfect O, moving forward just slightly every few seconds.

“I got one!” He says excitedly, rotating his fingers to pass the joint back to Dan.

“That was incredibly hot,” Dan says, meaning it. He takes a drag.

“Yeah?” Phil asks. He inches a little closer to Dan when he takes the joint back, kicking his legs up that they line up with Dan’s on the coffee table.  He takes another hit and reaches to take Dan’s face in his hand. Dan smiles when he opens his mouth, letting Phil exhale the smoke between his own lips.

“Fuck, yeah like that,” Dan says. “We haven’t done that like, since we met basically.”

Phil just shakes his head and smiles. “Good times,” he remarks. Phil settles next to Dan, Dan can feel them both sinking into the couch.

“Dropping out was a good thing though, I think.” Phil says, returning to the subject.

“Do we have to talk about it?” Dan asks.

“No, I’m just saying. It’s been a good year.”

“It has been a good year,” Dan agrees. “Mostly. Comparatively.”

“Not an easy one,” Phil adds.

Dan snorts. “No.”  
  
“Well, we couldn’t afford this place if you hadn’t dropped out,” Phil jokes.

“We can't afford this place anyway,” Dan says, flatly.

“I suppose you’d also be in Manchester and I’d be in London, so that doesn’t work either.”

“It would be pretty ironic, seeing as I went there in the first place for you.”

“Yeah?” Phil asks, smiling.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Phil just sits there smiling at Dan, his tongue poking out in front of his teeth and Dan can’t help but lean forward to kiss the grin off his face. Phil’s lips are warm and familiar and his breath tastes like weed and Dan can’t help but feel like this is home. He nips a little at Phil’s lower lip before bringing his hand back up to his mouth. The joint’s almost at a roach by now and Dan inhales only holding it with the edge of his lips.

“I really, really love what we’re doing now,” Dan says, truthfully, offering the roach to Phil with the tips of his fingers. He lets them linger on Phil’s for a second, because he can.

“But?” Phil asks, taking a timid inhale from the roach.

“No, that's it. I really do,” Dan says, soundly. “You can cash that it’s pretty much dead anyway.”

Phil coughs a little as he exhales, letting the filter fall into the soda can before putting it down on the coffee table. He sits back on the couch and curls three quarters of his body into Dan before lazily throwing a leg over his lap.

“You doin’ alright there?” Dan asks, amused.

Phil buries his face deeper into Dan’s side, just to make a point maybe.

“Yeah,” he says, more clearly than Dan expected. It’s quiet for a few moments before Phil asks, “Why does the letter have to be a bad thing?”

Dan thinks for a second. “It just makes it final,” he says. “I’m never gonna have that life. People don’t look at me the same way now. You know when we see extended family or go on holiday it’s a ten minute conversation explaining our jobs instead of one where I can sound smart and pretentious and like I’m doing something impressive.”

“You are doing something impressive.”

“Not to them, as like, a general collective,” Dan says. “It was just nice, you know? Not being a disappointment.”

Phil shifts quickly to look Dan straight in the eyes. “I would ask if I even needed to tell you how untrue that is but apparently I do.”

“Things are good now, I know,” Dan says.

“Things are _hard_ now,” Phil says.

“I wish it just all hadn’t happened at once,” Dan adds. “You know? Going step by step might have been a little easier.”

“I have a feeling things might not slow down for a while.”

“Yeah.” Dan leans his head back against the cushion. “I just wanna be able to pay rent on our own.”

Phil hums. Dan feels his thoughts fade in and out and listens to Phil’s breathing next to him while his head sways back and forth ever so slightly; so Dan just, kisses him because he can, because he’s high, because even after a shitty fucking week there’s the promise of a better tomorrow with this man by his side. Regardless if he’s a lawyer or a radio dj or none of the above.

Phil’s apparently been ready for this for a while, he kisses Dan soundly and wraps an arm around him to pull their chests closer together. It’s lazy and sloppy and they trade open mouthed kisses wordlessly for minutes, a sound or two escaping their lips.

“Why didn’t we ever become proper stoners?” Phil asks, tilting his head so he can place a kiss behind Dan’s ear, nipping and sucking as he moves down slowly, taking his time.

“Because you get anxious - _ah,”_ he whines softly for a split second when Phil adjusts so both his legs are straddling Dan now, a hand unexpectedly grazing the skin under the bottom of Dan’s t-shirt.

“What was that?” he asks, innocently.

“You get anxious when it isn’t that fair-trade organic pure indica bullshit we get in LA,” Dan finishes. He rolls his hips a little bit and steadies himself, holding on to Phil’s hip. Phil hums again.

“Yeah but doesn’t it feel nice?” he asks.

“The weed?”

“Mmm.”

“‘s good,” Dan says, truthfully. It’s strong and clear and everything is just softer around the edges. His eyes squint against the light but he can feel Phil’s weight against him and the dull throbbing in his own cock as he tugs at the bottom of Phil’s shirt, silently asking for it to come off. Phil grins, getting the message and pulling it off by the collar, Dan following suit shortly.

“You gotta stop treating your shirts like that, that’s why they wear out,” Dan mumbles, reaching to pull off his own. Dan exhales at the first warmth of skin against skin, the sharp sense of reality cutting through his high when Phil brushes a thumb against Dan’s nipple before replacing it with his teeth and tongue.

Everything's slow and soft and Dan’s brain is fuzzy, but in the back of his mind he’s aware he’s taking his time with Phil in a way they haven’t in weeks. There’s been the chaos of the move and a new job on top of the general stress of life and being more and more in the public eye every single day. It’s been fast and it’s been needy and Dan’s aware that he’s 21 and always on edge but he thinks that this, slow and soft and tender, might be his favorite. At least today, he reserves the right to change his mind.  

Phil rolls his hips and Dan’s hands instinctively fly to his belt buckle, the soft _clink_ almost instant as he moves his hand to slip awkwardly under Phil’s waistband, scratching his fingers through the barely-trimmed coarse hair above Phil’s semi flatted up against his pants before his hand stops.

“Can’t get an angle here,” Dan mutters.

“Bedroom?” Phil asks, still low and lazy.

“Yeah.”

Dan turns the light off as they exit the lounge, his eyes just starting to adjust when Phil turns the lights on in his room and sheds his jeans almost immediately, letting them stay forgotten on the floor.

“That’s way too bright,” Dan says, following suit before settling back against the pillows and taking himself in his hand, evenly stroking himself.

“You know mum said to me once that if you can’t have sex with the lights on you shouldn’t be having sex at all,” Phil muses, but obliges as he hits the lightswitch and instead turns the knob lighting the lamp on his side of the bed.

“I can literally feel myself losing my boner, Phil,” Dan groans. “We’ve discussed talking about family during sex many, many times.”

Phil grins, moving to settle in front of Dan before Dan goes -  
  
“Wait switch with me.”

“What?”

“Switch spots with me so I can blow you.”

Phil’s eyes widen for a split second before hastily moving and letting Dan take him in his mouth with an almost inaudible gasp.

Dan sucks lightly on the head of Phil’s cock, letting his tongue circle lazily as he tries to combat the dry-mouth from his high and gathers saliva so Phil’s slick and pliable against his lips. He sinks down to the base and hollows his cheeks. Dan’s high and hazy and the rhythm is off but Phil’s head is against the pillows and he’s making that face he does when he starts to lose control and the weight in Dan’s mouth feels comforting and real in a way everything else has struggled to be this year.

“Wait, stop. Stop,” Phil gasps, just as a thin layer of pre-come starts to leak in Dan’s mouth.

“You ok?” Dan asks, knowing the answer.

“I just don’t wanna totally lose it yet,” Phil says, shifting so he can wrap a hand around the base of Dan’s cock, tugging a few times before lifting his hand to give it some spit.

“Oh my god Phil you’re a grown ass man and there’s a bottle of lube three feet from you,” Dan says, moving so he’s no longer resting on his legs.

Phil rolls his eyes before rolling half-over to pull a bottle out of his nightstand. Dan thanks the employment gods that kept them in the organic water based lube department as he hears the snap of a cap before Phil’s hand is back on him with slick, even tugs this time that cut through Dan’s high. Phil’s hand slip to attend to Dan’s balls before moving lower, tracing a circle around his opening.

“Is this ok?” Phil asks.

Dan’s not sure why he still asks, if it’s his trouble reading facial expressions or just because he’s that good of a guy, but he still does and he always has.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Do it.”

“ _Do it,”_ Phil immediately says in a strained impression of Emperor Palpatine.

Dan snorts.

“Move back, switch with me again,” Phil says, crawling around Dan and pouring more lube on both his hand as well as Dan’s, whos wanking with a rhythm now, legs open and waiting and looking at Phil like he’s the only goddamn thing in the world.

“You’re really fucking pretty you know that, Howell?” He asks quietly, sliding a single finger into Dan, who tenses for a moment before relaxing.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Phil says, adding another finger and opening them, stretching Dan slowly.

“Kiss me again,” Dan says. Phil does. They both smile.

“Love you,” Dan says, before letting out a short, unexpected moan when Phil brushes against his prostate. “There - yeah,” he splutters. “More.”

“Yeah?” Phil asks, softly. He adds another finger as Dan starts to babble every couple of seconds. He’s stayed mostly quiet in bed when he could help it since the move from Manchester, London seeming to represent a loss of freedom neither of them really understood yet. Slowly, this new home has felt more and more like a sanctuary every day where Dan can just _be._   

“Love you too, by the way.” Phil adds.

“Come here, come here I’m ready,” Dan tells him.

“‘Mmk,” Phil murmurs. “Do you want me to wear a condom?”

“Fuck no,” Dan replies. The box of condoms they bought when they moved still hasn’t been opened. In fact, Dan can only think of a few times off the top of his head they’ve used one at all in the last few years past a few desperate escapades away on weekends with their families.

There are enough barriers between them.

Dan closes his eyes and settles into his high for a few moments, listening to the sound of Phil coating himself with what sounds to be a good amount of lube before guiding himself into Dan with a shaky exhale.

It’s the instant connection that makes Dan feel like there are fucking crescendos in his head. He laces his arms around Phil’s neck while he works up a rhythm, slowly moving until he bottoms out with a shudder.

Dan catches Phil’s lips, kissing steadily turning into ragged panting into each others mouths. Dan wraps his legs around Phil’s, arching his back and leaning into the pressure, trying to take him in as much as he possibly could.

“Fuck - yeah there,” Dan whines as Phil angles his hips. The only thing Dan can feel through his high is the bursts of pleasure, the way his heart clenches when Phil drops his head to Dan’s neck, leaving a single kiss on his collarbone in between shaky cries. Dan’s repeating Phil’s name like a prayer, hands clenched in his hair as he splutters filthily, reaching down to touch himself.

“I’m so close, Dan, I’m close,” Phil whimpers. He bites Dan’s shoulder just barely, centering himself, and Dan is overwhelmed with a shot of affection for this man who’s still just as far gone for him as Dan is for him.

Dan twists his wrist and squeezes the head of his cock, he’ll be right behind Phil and he knows it. Phil’s thrusts become frantic and Dan’s mouth stays open as he gasps and moans and writhes as Phil skilfully, repeatedly, hits his prostate.

The pit of Dan’s stomach clenches in a way he’s all to familiar with, his orgasam taking over with a cry, come leaking over both of their chests. Phil’s not far behind, he’s holding Dan tighter and tighter until his thrusts become erratic and he follows suit.

They lie there for a few moments, breathing evening out until Phil pulls out slowly and gets up to get a handful of tissues from the dresser, handing a number to Dan before throwing them in the trash and getting back into bed and opening his arms for Dan to fit into.

Dan turns to face Phil, wrapping his arms around his waist and tucking his nose into Phil’s neck like he has so many times before. Dan knows it’s biology, that Phil smells warm and good and comforting because his pheromones are supposed to keep Dan around, but it’s grounding and lovely and home and Dan really doesn’t care what the reason is for it because when all else fails there is that one constant.

When the world comes to an end Phil will be there to hold his hand, just like on the good days.

“You still high?” Phil asks.

“Barely,” Dan mumbles.

“Me too. Save the other joint for tomorrow?” Phil asks.

“Might as well, Halloween and all.”

“Should be a good day then,” Phil says.

Dan hums as he drifts to sleep with a warm feeling about the future. Things are good, things will be good.

* * *

Dan wakes up to damage control. As it turns out, tomorrow is not a good day either.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on my social media!
> 
> tumblr: [ philsroots](https://philsroots.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: @fizzymcguire


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